


an ever-fixed mark

by loserloverwhatever



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadlights (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Flashbacks, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Stanley Uris Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserloverwhatever/pseuds/loserloverwhatever
Summary: [ reuploaded ]'Either Bev was lying or there is some weird time travel shit going on, because this is definitely not the future,' Richie thought.Suspended limply in the air, another thought came to mind that he could hardly bear.'Maybe there is no future. Maybe this is all there is to show.'He felt the bile begin to rise, except he didn’t. But he should’ve. But he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb as he watched from a distance.-Or: What Richie sees in the Deadlights, and how the story changes.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. the most dangerous thing is to love

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally started this in June, but recently I decided to edit it a bit before adding anything to it. So here it is, the chapters are a tiny bit shorter, but there will be more of them!
> 
> TW for: referenced sexual content (nothing explicit), and mild internalized homophobia. If there's anything else, let me know.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter: @cryptidtozier

_ “Let me not to the marriage of true minds _

_ Admit impediments. Love is not love _

_ Which alters when it alteration finds, _

_ Or bends with the remover to remove. _

_ O no! it is an ever-fixed mark _

_ That looks on tempests and is never shaken; _

_ It is the star to every wand'ring bark, _

_ Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. _

_ Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks _

_ Within his bending sickle's compass come; _

_ Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, _

_ But bears it out even to the edge of doom. _

_ If this be error and upon me prov'd, _

_ I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.” _

_ ―  _ **William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI**

_ Either Bev was lying or there is some weird time travel shit going on, because this is definitely not the future _ , Richie thought.

Suspended limply in the air, another thought came to mind that he could hardly bear.

_ Maybe there is no future. Maybe this is all there is to show. _

He felt the bile begin to rise, except he didn’t. But he should’ve. But he couldn’t feel  _ anything _ . He was numb as he watched from a distance.

The clubhouse, dimly lit and dusty as ever, sat in front of him. The sight wouldn’t have been as shocking if it weren’t for the seven kids scattered about the structure, seven Losers. It was a scene straight out of the summer of 1989, one of the less life-threatening, straight out of a nightmare ones. The sight of his younger self, happy and surrounded by friends, should’ve made him smile. But it didn’t. It would have, if he had any control over his body. Instead, he stared blankly, slack-jawed and floating, at the nostalgic scene laid before him. In one corner, Bev sat talking to Mike, both smiling, discussing something unintelligible with passion. From across the room, Ben sat with Bill and Stan, pretending to be a part of their respective conversion, while stealing glances toward Bev. She looked back at him once, as he quickly turned away, cheeks tinted bright red. Richie couldn’t help but notice Bill look in the same direction a few times himself, though his gaze didn’t seem completely focused on Bev. He couldn’t quite understand what any of them were saying, their words jumbled and just out of reach. From the back of the clubhouse, he heard the first coherent sentence to come from any of the Losers.

“Get the  _ fuck _ out of that  _ goddamn  _ hammock, you  _ fucking asshole. _ ” And Richie almost cried. Almost.

“Why don’t you try and make me, Spaghetti.” 

_ What a little shit _ , Richie thought. 

Either the room was moving, or something decided to move Richie’s body closer, because before he knew, the other Losers were out of sight. His vision focused on the hammock, a younger version of himself sat in it, and a young Eddie standing beside him. Eddie glared at Young Richie intensely, his arms folded at his chest. Young Richie smirked back. 

“You are such a fucking dick, Rich.” Eddie stepped closer to the hammock. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

“Woah. I just got an insane case of déjà vu, because I’m pretty sure your mom was screaming the exact same-” Young Richie was cut off by Eddie jumping on top of him, nearly flipping them both off the hammock. They struggled for a moment, attempting to find a way for them to both sit comfortably. The struggle resulted in the two crammed awkwardly next to each other, as they often ended up. Neither of them really seemed that bothered, though.

_ Jesus Christ, could you be any more obvious?  _ Richie watched his younger self stare at Eddie in awe, cheeks flushed. Eddie was focused on the comic book that had somehow managed to appear between them, while Young Richie not-so-subtly wrapped one arm around Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Eddie whispered, his eyes not leaving the colorful pages of the comic.

“Huh?” Young Richie mumbled back dumbly.

“You’re staring, Rich.You don’t think I notice when you look at me like that?” The comment took Richie by surprise, both young and old. 

_ When did this happen?  _

Before Young Richie could respond, Beverly caught his attention.

“Hey, the rest of us are heading out. You guys coming?” Richie couldn’t see her, but he could hear the others climbing up the ladder and out of the clubhouse.

“We’re gonna stay here for a bit Bev, but we’ll see you tomorrow.” Eddie replied.

“We are?” Young Richie stared at Eddie in confusion.

“Yep,” Eddie said quickly, “Bye Bev.”

“Bye, boys. Don’t get in too much trouble without me, okay?” Beverly laughed. Richie heard the ladder creak once again, and the hatch close a few seconds later. 

“What was that about, Eds?” 

“I just want to stay here for a bit. Just you and me.” Eddie’s focus shifted back to the comic, while Young Richie struggled to find a response. “You’re still staring, Rich.” Eddie mumbled a few moments later.

“You’re just acting a bit weird, Eds. Is everything okay?” 

_ I don’t remember this. What is this? _ Something was off, but Richie couldn’t quite place what it was.

“I’m fine, Rich.” Eddie took his eyes off the comic, and looked toward Young Richie, “Is it a crime to want to spend time with my best friend?”

“No, obviously, but,” Young Richie was nervous, practically shaking, “You’re just not acting like yourself.”

“Neither are you. You’ve been acting weird for weeks.” Eddie replied softly, his eyes not leaving Young Richie. 

_ Seriously, what the fuck is this? It has to be the fucking clown. Fuck. The fucking clown. The fucking Deadlights.  _ But any other thought of the outside world disappeared, against his best efforts. His focus was back on the not-quite-memory.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Eds.” Young Richie put on a big, fake smile, “I’m still the same old Trashmouth you know and love.”

And then something shifted. Richie didn’t know what it was, but something changed. And then Eddie said it.

“I think I might.” Eddie nearly whispered. He took a deep breath, and set down the comic.

“What?”

_ What? _

“I- I just-” Eddie stumbled over his words, “I just think it’d be easier if I just showed you, okay?”

“Show me what? What are you talking about?” Young Richie let out a nervous laugh, “Seriously Eds-”

“Don’t call me that, you know I…” Eddie started, but trailed off. His eyes flickered down a bit.

_ What are you about to do, Eds? _

And then something happened. Something that Richie knew never happened. It couldn’t have.

_ Why are you showing me this, you stupid fucking- _

All words disappeared when he saw Eddie lean in.

A small gasp is all he heard before Eddie’s lips crashed into those of his younger self. It was weird, seeing something that his younger self had spent years dreaming of. The two, tangled in the hammock, Young Richie’s hand running through Eddie’s neat hair. The kiss only lasted a moment, soft and sweet. 

“What… the fuck was that?” Young Richie whispered softly as Eddie pulled away, but there was no malice in his voice. If anything, it was affection.

“I’m sorry, Rich,” Eddie was still pressed close to Young Richie, “But, I think I might love you.”

“Like, for real?” Young Richie, clearly in a state of shock, stared at Eddie, who wouldn’t look back at him.

“I don’t want it to be weird Richie, but I-”

“I love you too. And not to make it a competition, but I don’t there’s ever been a time when I didn't love you.” Young Richie took Eddie’s hand, and placed one of his own on Eddie’s cheek. “Jeez, Eddie Spaghetti, if I would’ve known you liked me too, I would have said something earlier. And I would’ve stopped seeing your mother a long time ago.”

“Are you seriously incapable of not ruining a moment?” Eddie laughed, pressing in closer to Young Richie.

“You know it’s my specialty Eds.” Young Richie said softly as he leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to Eddie’s lips.

_ Why? What is this? What kind of fucked up torture is this? _

Richie didn’t get an answer before his stomach started to twist. The first real physical feeling he’d had since this fever dream started. A light shone from the darkness of the clubhouse, somehow, despite being underground. The light grew brighter, splitting into three, spinning. And then Richie was falling, his younger self and Eddie no longer in sight. No hammock, no clubhouse. Just the lights. 

And then he hit the ground.

Or at least it felt like it at first. The falling had stopped, but he was still floating nonetheless. This time he was in his childhood bedroom, as it had been his senior year of high school. A mess, mostly, with posters from his favorite bands and movies, dirty laundry and old cassette tapes scattered about.

_ What the fuck is this? Why am I here? _

“Richie, honey!” It was his mother’s voice, shouting from outside his closed door.

“I’ll be right there, hold on!” His eighteen year old self shouted back, walking from behind Richie, approaching his standing mirror. He wore a dark red tux, fixing his tie as his mother called out again.

“Sweetie, your date is here!” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right down!” He shouted again, attempting to fix his messy hair, to no avail.

It was 1994, his senior prom. This memory was a bit more familiar to Richie, being quite an embarrassing one.

_ Why are you showing me this? Because, if I have to sit through this shitshow of a night twice- _

His thought was interrupted by the sound of his bedroom door opening. Young Richie turned around, a wide grin growing on his acne-covered face.

“Hey, baby.” His younger counterpart smirked.

_ Baby? I wasn’t dating- _

“Oh thank God, you chose a sensible suit,” Eddie walked past where older Richie was frozen, “Red suits you, babe.”

_ What the fuck? _

“Every color suits me, Eddie my love, I just happen to know red is your favorite.” Young Richie grabbed Eddie by the waist, pulling him in for a deep kiss. 

_ This is not right. _

“Woah there cowboy,” Eddie slowly pulled away from Young Richie, “Save some of that energy for  _ after _ the dance, okay?”

“If you insist, babe.” Young Richie pressed a softer kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

_ What the fuck. What the actual fuck? I don’t understand. Eddie moved away junior year, we never- we weren’t- he’s not gay. We never dated or kissed or- or anything. Eddie wasn’t even there for senior prom. I went with some girl from my chemistry class, I hated it but she liked me, I got my first handjob from her behind the bleachers and freaked out afterwards, I never spoke to her again, and Stan made fun of me for days, and Eddie wasn’t fucking there. What the hell is this? What- _

There was a small knock on the door, interrupting his frantic train of thought.

“You can come in, mom.” Young Richie called out.

“Just making sure, sweetheart,” Maggie Tozier walked into his room cautiously with a soft smile, “You boys look so handsome. You have to let me take some pictures.”

“Mom-”

“That would be lovely, Maggie.” Eddie interrupted. 

“Oh, wonderful, I’ll go grab the camera. No funny business while I’m gone.” Maggie gestured between the two of them with a knowing grin as she walked out into the hallway, causing a bright red hue to paint Young Richie’s face. 

“I’m sorry she’s… like that.” Young Richie sat at the end of his bed, Eddie followed and sat next to him. 

“It could be worse,” Eddie nudged his arm, “I can only imagine how my mom would react.”

“Heartbroken, just completely distraught, I’m sure. Her former lover, involved in a scandalous affair with her very own son!” Young Richie exclaimed, draping himself dramatically over Eddie. He sat there for a moment before looking up at Eddie with a more serious look, “Seriously though, you’re eighteen, Eds. You can just tell her to fuck off if she has shit to say about it. It’s none of her business who you love.”

“And when she kicks me out, or tries to send me away, Rich?” Eddie asked softly, and Young Richie dropped his arms. He grabbed both of Eddie’s hands in his own.

“Then you can stay here, with me, forever.”

“You’re planning on living in your parent’s house for the rest of your life?” Eddie laughed.

“You know what I mean, Eds.”

“I know.” Eddie let his head fall on Young Richie’s shoulder. “There’s no way we’re staying in this awful town any longer than we have to.”

“We could run away,” Young Richie mused, “Just say screw it and get the fuck out of this hellhole before it swallows us whole.”

Eddie simply hummed in response, letting his eyes slowly close, smiling at the thought.

Richie watched them, unable to move or say anything. He felt like he was interrupting a moment, which he kind of was, in a way. He also had no idea what the fuck was going on. The memory wasn’t real, even though sure fucking felt like it. 

_ Why are you showing me these… whatever they are? Fake memories? Dreams? I don’t understand. _

And for the first time, he got a reply.

**_YOU DON’T NEED TO UNDERSTAND, TRASHMOUTH,_ ** A sudden voice echoed through the room,  **_YOU JUST NEED TO WATCH._ **

_ Why? Why the fuck do I need to see shit that never happened? _

And with that, the lights appeared again, and he began to fall.

Richie fell for what felt like hours, then came to a sudden halt. It took a moment to recognize where he was. His house in L.A., but not as he knew it. For starters, the place was much cleaner than Richie had ever left it. It seemed lighter, mostly due to the curtains being open, a rare occurrence in the Trashmouth residence. The furniture was new, or at least most of it was, and the walls were no longer barren.

_ Who the fuck hired an interior designer? _

And just as Richie thought he had seen the weirdest part of whatever he was experiencing, something small and fluffy rushed into the room, its paws loudly tapping on the hardwood floor.

_ No fucking way. _

“Lucky! Sweetie! I swear I was  _ not _ trying to give you a bath, baby.” Richie ran into the room after the Pomeranian. But it wasn’t really Richie. Just like the house wasn’t really his house. This Richie owned clothes other than sweatpants and ugly Hawaiian shirts, and clearly worked out. This Richie wore a ring on his wedding finger (which Real Richie didn’t really want to get into) and smiled more in the previous minute than Real Richie had in the last week (excluding the Loser’s Club reunion, of course). This Richie was happy, and apparently, a dog person. “I’ll give you a treat, I promise.”

“Don't spoil her too much. We don’t want to give her a complex, like someone else we know.” Behind Happy Richie, Eddie appeared, looking the same as he did before whatever was happening to Richie. Minus the stab wound to the face, for obvious reasons. Were they obvious though?

_ Why was Real Eddie hurt again? Fuck, why can’t I remember… What is going on?  _

“Now, you wouldn’t happen to be talking about me, now would you?” Happy Richie turned around and put on a Southern-Belle-adjacent Voice, causing Eddie to let out a small laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,  _ Darling _ .” Eddie slipped into a half-assed accent at the end, which would’ve driven Richie mad if he could really feel anything, but it seemed to do the trick for Happy Richie.

“Now I do declare, that sounded an awful lot like flirting Mr. Kaspbrak-Tozier, and I happen to know you are a married man.” Happy Richie crooned, as Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I would hope you know that, considering you’re the dumbass I’m married to.” Eddie pulled him in for a kiss.

And there it was. They were married.

_ Holy shit. We look so in love.  _

And Richie was being forced to watch. Forced to witness something he could never have.

_ That’s it. That’s why you’re showing me this shit, because it’s what I always wanted. This is what I can’t ever have, and you think showing me it is the ultimate form of torture. Well guess what buddy? You failed! I accepted that shit years ago! I know he’ll never feel the same way about me, which may fucking suck, but it’s reality! Nice fucking try you son of a- _

**_THAT’S ENOUGH, TRASHMOUTH,_ ** The voice returned,  **_BUT YOU ARE CORRECT. THIS IS NOT WORKING,_ ** It let out a small laugh,  **_LET’S TRY SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING-_ **

The voice was cut off by the sudden sound of everything around him coming into place. Richie was falling again, but for once it felt  _ real.  _ He hit the ground with a  _ thud _ , his eyes wide open, taking in the scene around him. The faint green glow in the cavern surrounded him, he was no longer in the Deadlights. He could see It, falling backwards with something sticking out of it. Everything was blurry, and loud. He could barely hear Eddie calling out to him.

“Rich!” And then Eddie was hovering over him, looking just as fucked-up and gorgeous as he had before Richie got caught in those damn lights, “Oh, Richie!” 

He tried to say something back, but nothing came out.

“Hey, Rich, wake up! Hey. Yeah, yeah! There he is, buddy!” And Richie just stared at Eddie. At his exhausted, beautiful smile. At his wide eyes, and,  _ Jesus, _ his smile. Richie could never forget that smile. “Hey, Richie, listen! I think I got him, man!” Eddie glanced behind himself, then turned back to Richie with the most beautiful look, “I think I killed it! I did! I think I killed it for real-“

He couldn’t be further from the truth.


	2. i think i've seen this film before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say I didn't like the ending ;)
> 
> TW for: blood and gore (nothing worse than canon though), and just general canon sadness (don't worry- it's temporary).
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter for more sad gay clown movie content: @cryptidtozier

_ I want to kiss him, _ Richie thought, for one blissful moment before Eddie’s blood splattered his broken glasses.

It all happened so fast. He felt the warmth of Eddie’s blood on his face before his brain could process what happened. He could only stare as Eddie’s gaze drifted towards something sharp and jagged protruding his torso, eyes widening at the sight of the clown’s claw filling the now gaping hole in his chest.

“Eddie...” It was the only thing Richie could manage to get out of his mouth, filled with the taste of iron and forgotten love.

Eddie glanced back at him with a tortured look, his hands reaching up around the wound.

“Richie...” He whimpered in response, a long string of thick blood dripping from his mouth to Richie’s lips, “Richie,” He repeated, before being forcefully tugged away from him, letting out a pained noise as he ascended.

Richie gasped. He sat up a bit, his wide eyes following the movement of the claw as the clown laughed. He heard the others screaming in the distance. 

“Eddie,” He whispered one more time.

“Uh-oh,” The clown taunted, waving Eddie around in the air like a rag-doll, before violently throwing him to the side. Eddie crashed into a small cavern, tumbling down and out of sight.

Richie sat up further, gasping for air. He stood up as fast as he could, racing after Eddie. The others followed, shouting for them both. 

Richie got there first.

“Eds! Eds! Eddie!” Eddie was lying face down. It was only seconds before they were no longer alone. Now gathered together, the Losers hoisted him up, setting him against the wall of the cavern. They all stared for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. His wound was large, larger than they knew he could survive. The clown began to taunt them once again, thrashing against the small entrance to the cavern. Too small.

“Come out and play, Losers!” It shouted in glee.

But Richie didn’t care. The clown could go fuck itself for all he cared. His focus was on Eddie.

“He’s hurt. He’s hurt really bad,” He muttered, mostly to himself, as he took his jacket off. He scrunched it up as he knelt down and pressed the worn leather against the wound. Not that it did much. “We gotta get him out of here.”

“How are we supposed to do that Richie?” Bev said softly, but Richie really wasn’t listening to her. His eyes, and ears, were trained on Eddie alone.

“I almost killed it.” Eddie spoke, his eyes focused back on Richie. Blood continued to drip from his mouth, warm and red. And then it was black.

_ Eddie?  _ Something wasn’t right. Richie tried to speak, but nothing came out. 

**_WHAT IS IT, TRASHMOUTH? CLOWN GOT YOUR TONGUE?_ ** Eddie laughed through the thick, black substance, which had started gushing from his chest as well. He started to stand up, slightly hunched over, but maintaining eye contact with Richie. 

_ You’re not Eddie. _

Richie tried to step back, but he was floating again. Maybe he always had been. The others had disappeared, along with the clown, leaving Richie and Not Eddie in the dark cavern alone.

**_I WONDER WHAT MY LAST WORDS WILL BE_ ** , Not Eddie mused, stepping closer to Richie,  **_MAYBE SOMETHING FUNNY. HOW DOES ‘I FUCKED YOUR MOTHER’ SOUND?_ ** Not Eddie laughed, **_NAH, THAT’S MORE YOUR BRAND ANYWAYS, ISN’T IT, TRASHMOUTH?_ **

_ What do you want from me?  _ Richie wanted to scream.

**_IT’S NOT WHAT_ ** **I** **_WANT, TRASHMOUTH, BUT WHAT_ ** **YOU** **_WANT,_ ** Not Eddie reached for him, resting his hand on Richie’s cheek,  **_YOU WANT_ ** **HIM** **_, AND YOU WILL NEVER GET HIM. DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO HIM. AND THERE IS_ ** **NOTHING** **_YOU CAN DO TO CHANGE THAT._ **

And with that, Richie was falling again, into a familiar scene. It was the same as before, the clown stumbling back, Eddie hovering over him.

_ Eddie. _

“Rich! Oh, Richie!” Before Eddie could continue with his premature celebration, Richie reached up and grabbed his shoulders. “Wuh-”

Richie pulled him down into an embrace, then rolled over, taking Eddie with him.

“Rich, buddy, what are you doing?” Richie was on top of him, holding him tighter as the clown’s claw swiped at the rocks next to them.

“We gotta go Eds,” Richie sat up, straddling Eddie’s waist. He looked back at the clown, who no longer seemed focused on either of them. Instead, the clown seemed to be chasing after the other Losers. “We gotta get to the cavern, you’ll be safe there. It can’t get in. Too small.”

“What? Rich, what are you-” Richie didn’t let him finish, pulling him off the ground.

“Just trust me, please, Eds.” Richie grabbed his hand, and Eddie nodded in response. The two ran, hand in hand, to the small opening. They stumbled down the rocks, and ended up on the ground.

“Richie? Are you okay?” Eddie pulled himself up, and turned to Richie, who sat up as well.

“I’m- I’m fine, are you?” Richie stared at him with wide eyes, finally letting go of Eddie’s hand.

“Yeah,” Eddie reached up towards Richie’s glasses, trying to wipe something off of them, “There was something- I thought I saw-”

“Blood?” Richie finished.

Eddie stared at him, as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Yeah, but there’s not- they’re just a little cracked.” Eddie pulled his hand away, still staring intensely at Richie.

“It’s okay,” Richie put his arm around Eddie, pulling him into a hug, “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“Thank you, by the way.” Eddie mumbled into Richie’s shoulder, “How did you know it was gonna-”

“It doesn’t matter, Eds, it wasn’t real.” Eddie pulled back from the hug, a look of concern plastered on his face.

“Rich,” He spoke softly, “Did you see something? In the Deadlights?”

Before Richie could respond, the other four Losers found them.

“Richie! Eddie! Are you okay?” Mike stumbled down the rocks, arm wrapped around Bill. Bev and Ben followed.

“Yeah, we’re good, Mike!” Eddie shouted back, his focus drawn away from Richie.

They all gathered, in an all-too-familiar circle in the middle of the cavern.

“How are we gonna do this, guys?” Ben asked, looking mostly at Bill for guidance, as all of the Losers often did.

“I d-don’t know man,” Bill shook his head, “Any ideas, Mikey?” He turned to Mike, who still had his arm wrapped around Bill’s shoulder. Mike looked, well to put it gently, defeated.

“I wish I could say I know what to do,” Mike looked at the rest of them, then back to Bill, “I’m so sorry.”

Richie was still focused on Eddie, on the fact that he was breathing. He was alive. He barely even noticed when Ben broke off from the group, exploring further into the cavern.

“I almost killed it,” Eddie said suddenly, the others looked at him in a collective confusion, “The leper. My hands around his throat. And I could feel him choking. I made him small.”

From behind them, the clown tore at the rocks surrounding the entrance to the cavern. A very small entrance.  _ Too small. _

“He seemed so weak.” Eddie continued, and Richie didn’t think he could be any more in love with him. 

“You’re a fucking genius, Eds.” Richie turned to him, placing a hand gently to Eddie’s bandaged cheek. 

_ Super smooth, Tozier,  _ Richie thought to himself, but he didn’t have quite enough time to be embarrassed before Mike spoke up.

“The Shokopiwah,” Mike’s face lit up, “All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit!”

Just as the others started to catch on, Ben captured their attention.

“Guys!” Ben shouted, peering out from a small tunnel behind them, “There’s a passageway. Through here.”

“The tunnel!” Beverly gasped, seeming to understand, “Pennywise has to make himself small to get through the entrance of the cavern, right? Okay, so, if we can get back there, we can force him down to size.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed.

“We make him small. Small enough so we can kill him.” A wide grin spread across Beverly’s face. She looked back to Eddie, who was grinning as well.

“I can smell the stink of your fear!” The clown laughed, thrashing against the rocks even harder.

“Let’s go! Go!” Mike shouted, gathering the others and leading them back to Ben.

“Come on! Come on!” Ben shouted back, “It’s tight! Be careful!”

And for some fucked-up reason, Richie just about made a joke. Apparently predicting this, Eddie gripped his arm tightly, a warning.

The small tunnel led them back to the main cavern, but Pennywise didn’t seem to notice their disappearance. The Losers watched for a moment as the clown continued to violently attack the other entrance. 

“Hey Richie?” Eddie whispered. He pulled Richie to the side, away from the others, “I gotta tell you something.”

In all honesty, Richie really wasn’t sure if this was real or not. Something in the back of his mind was telling him not to trust any of it. But then again, in the previous scenarios he couldn’t remember what happened in the delusion before it. Richie remembered every detail of what he saw in the lights. 

“What’s up, buddy?’ Richie inquired, against his better judgement.

Eddie gave him an intense look, then his eyes wandered back to the other Losers, still distracted. He looked back at Richie with a contemplative look in his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“I-” He paused, seemingly unsure of what to say. He looked deeply into Richie’s eyes, searching for an answer.

_ Please let this be real. Please.  _

But Richie wasn’t just scared of the possibility of another delusion. He was also terrified of what was about to come out of Eddie’s mouth, because it was starting to sound eerily like some sort of confession, and Richie wasn’t sure if he could quite handle something like that at the moment.

“I fucked your mother.” Eddie let out a stifled laugh.

Richie would’ve laughed too. He really would have. But those words. Those damn words. So he waited, he waited for the first sign of something going wrong. But nothing came. The clown was still on the other side of the cavern, the Losers were still quietly brewing up a plan, and Eddie was staring at him with expectant eyes. This was  _ real. _

“Eddie I-” Richie started, but was interrupted by Bill.

“Go, go!” Bill said in a low voice. He started to lead the others away from the tunnel, as quietly as possible. But the clown noticed anyways, lunging after them, claws first. 

Richie watched the others, now out in the open, nearly making it to another exit, before the clown cut them off.

“Gotcha! You filthy little children.” The clown laughed, towering over them.

Richie couldn’t really make out what the others were saying. His focus fell back on Eddie, as the clown shouted something about all of them dying. Priorities.

“Eds, are you okay?” He was still wary, definitely still aware that this could all be fake. But why would the clown allow him to find out how to escape?

“I feel weird, Rich, like I’m not supposed to- like I shouldn’t  _ be  _ here.” Eddie grabbed his hand, definitely  _ not _ flustering Richie.

“I think you were supposed to die, Eds. I can’t explain it,” Richie was definitely  _ not _ crying now, “But you're here, okay? You’re alive and you’re breathing and you’re beau-” Richie cut himself off. 

_ Nice save, jackass. _

“What-”

“It doesn’t matter, look, the others probably need our help.” Richie pulled Eddie out into the cavern.

The others were doing something that Richie did not expect. They weren’t using any weapons, not using any physical force against the clown. Instead, they were simply screaming at it. And it was  _ working. _

“You’re a fucking bully!” He heard Bev shout.

“You’re just a fucking clown!” Mike screamed.

“Eater of worlds!” The clown retorted.

“A clown!” Richie joined in, “A fucking clown!” He looked back to Eddie, grinning. They both moved forward, still hand in hand, joining the others as the clown began to back down.

“A clown!”

“A leper!”

“You’re a clown!”

“A painting!”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore!”

The clown backed into the center of the cavern, gradually shrinking against the sharp rocks.

“A motherfucking stupid mummy!”

“You’re a clown!”

“Clown! Clown!”

“Clown!”

It growled in disgust as the Losers’ voices joined together in the chanting.

“Clown!”

“Clown!”

“I am the eater of worlds!” The clown pleaded, but the chanting drowned it out.

_ This is it. This is how it ends,  _ Richie thought to himself,  _ It’s perfect. _

It was the size of a small child, not unlike its favorite prey, pressed firmly against the jagged rocks, only getting smaller.

Richie wasn’t even paying attention anymore, just aimlessly shouting insults, still focused on Eddie. He looked perfect, pure rage in his face as he screamed with the others. 

_ This is how it’s meant to be. _

Richie let go of Eddie’s hand, just for a moment. He reached down at the clown, gripping the claw that once ( _ in a dream? In another universe? _ ) tore through Eddie’s chest. He pulled as hard as he could, ripping it from the clown’s body. It cried out in pain. And Richie smiled, tossing it to the side. Eddie looked at him in awe, while still chanting with the others. The Losers chanted until the clown was nothing but a limp, infant-sized body, with an ugly-ass squished head.

“A clown,” Mike said, softer than before, “With a scared, beating heart.”

It whimpered as Mike reached down, the others watching intently. The clown let out one last snarl, startling them, before falling back down. Mike continued to reach for it, now pressing against the screaming clown’s chest. It ripped open against the force of Mike's hand, allowing him to search, and grasp its beating heart. The others watched in disgust (and amazement) as Mike pulled it out. 

Even with its heart missing, the clown seemed alive, albeit weak and desperate. It reached for its own heart as Mike pulled his fist away. The others joined cautiously, wrapping their own hands around it, feeling its weak pulse. Without a word spoken, the Losers closed their fists tighter, as the clown muttered its last words. 

“Look at you,” It whimpered, “You’re all grown up.”

It laughed and wheezed as the Losers finished it off. The heart crumbled to pieces in their grip, floating, as the Deadlights above them dimmed. The clown released a dying breath before falling apart as well, floating. Always floating. It was almost beautiful.

Bill reached for Mike, placing a hand in his cheek, and pressed their foreheads together in a relieved embrace. Mike placed his hand on Bill’s arm, pulling him in closer. Bev wrapped Ben in a tight hug, and he looked at her like she was his world. Richie turned to Eddie, who stared back with a soft expression. Richie could kiss him. He could really fucking kiss him. But he didn’t. There are some fears that stem deeper than murderous space clowns and shitty childhoods. So instead, Richie pulled him in for a definitely  _ super platonic _ hug.

The world began to shake around them.

Hand in hand, the Losers made their way of the cavern, back through the sewers, and the house, now crumbling on top of them. They stumbled onto the sunlit sidewalk of Neibolt street, just seconds before the house caved in on itself. They stood, out of breath and nearly blinded by the sunlight, for what seemed like infinity.

Richie turned to Eddie again. He pulled him into another embrace, reaching his arms over Eddie’s shoulders, while Eddie wrapped his own around Richie’s waist.

“We did it,” He whispered to Richie, “We fucking did it.” He let out a small laugh and pulled Richie in tighter.

“Yeah we did, buddy,” Tears streamed down Richie’s face as he smiled, leaning down just slightly, face pressed to the side of Eddie’s head, “I can’t believe we did it, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that, Rich, you know I-” 

“Guys, how do you feel about a quick rinse off before we get back to the townhouse?” Richie heard Ben coming up behind them, “Down at the Quarry?”

Richie pulled away from Eddie, just a little too quickly, but Ben didn’t seem phased. 

“Yeah man, sure, whatever.” Richie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and avoided Ben’s gaze. He focused on where Bill and Mike were still standing, holding each other. 

_ Sure, let those two embrace. Don’t worry, I’ll just go fuck myself I guess.  _

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you see my fucking cheek? Do you know how much fucking bacteria could get into my  _ open wound _ , Ben? Do you know what kind of fucking diseases I could get from doing dumb shit like that?” Eddie rambled, but the others had already started walking in the direction of the Quarry. Ben and Richie started to follow along, Eddie trailing behind them listing off the numerous illnesses he could contract from even getting near the water. 


	3. i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn't be for evermore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some emotions are felt, and a bed is shared.
> 
> TW for: mentions of canon (some depressing stuff right there), mild allusions to internalized homophobia (or the Richie Tozier special, as I like to call it), and mentions of mild injuries.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated <3
> 
> Follow me on Twitter ( @cryptidtozier ) or don't, it's really up to you.

When it came to it, Eddie didn’t hesitate to follow the others off the cliff into the emerald water. None of them did. It was in their blood, they were meant to be there. They swam, and laughed, and splashed, like they were kids again. Richie dunked Eddie's head under the water, despite his incessant warnings. Eddie returned to the surface, only to drag Richie back under the water with him. At some point under the surface, Richie lost his glasses, because of course he did. They all offered to help find them, but ended up getting a bit distracted on the hunt. Mike and Bill were the first to resurface, with no luck, but both sporting a look that Richie couldn’t quite decipher. Ben and Beverly came up next, seeming to have forgotten completely about his glasses, instead staring deeply into each other’s eyes. Richie couldn’t stomach watching them make eyes at each other for much longer. Eddie resurfaced moments later, glasses in hand.

“Here you go, dumbass.” Eddie smiled at him fondly. 

“Hey, don’t blame me! You pulled me under without warning!” Richie shoved him lightly, which in hindsight, maybe wasn’t the best idea.

“Hm! I wonder how that fucking feels!” Eddie shouted back, a playful tone in his voice, “It sure would be a shame if it happened again!” Eddie lunged toward Richie, attempting to pull him under once again, unsuccessfully. Richie grabbed both of his arms before he even had a chance.

“Woah there, buddy!” Richie laughed, “Careful, or you might drown someone.” 

They floated for a moment like that, Richie holding his wrists, and Eddie pretending like it bothered him. Richie’s gaze fell onto Eddie’s hands, in a desperate attempt to avoid prolonged eye contact. 

“Where’s the ring?” Richie asked softly, noticing Eddie’s ring finger, a slight discoloration where he once wore a gold band, “Did you lose it in the cavern?”

“No, I, uh,” Eddie paused, “I actually left it at the townhouse. In my bag”

“Oh, makes sense,” Richie chuckled awkwardly, “Don’t wanna lose it, right?”

“No, it’s not that. I kind of,” Eddie took a deep breath, “I decided to leave my wife. When I got the call.”

“Oh shit,” It took a moment for Richie’s brain to compute, “I’m sorry man.”

“It’s for the best, I mean, I talked to her briefly before I left and I think she understood. I told her that I might not come back. I guess my original thought was that I was probably going to die anyways, but I realized something the other night, when I started really remembering. Myra, she’s a lovely lady, overbearing, but lovely, but there was always something  _ off _ about our marriage, you know? And I realized that  _ holy shit _ I married my fucking mom, no wonder we never really- hey don’t you dare fucking laugh at that, dude. Anyways, I’ll have to call her. I’ll have to see her at some point too, I’m just hoping it will be civil.” Eddie took another deep breath, “Sorry for just unloading that shit on you.”

“It’s fine, man,” Richie stifled a laugh, “I get it. Relationships are fucking wack. I can’t really judge you considering the mess that it is my love life.”

“Aw, what happened to Trashmouth’s famous girlfriend?” Eddie laughed, only semi-joking, “You mention her all the time in your shows.”

“I told you, man, I don’t write my own material.” Richie finally let go of Eddie’s wrists, “Plus, do I really look like someone that somebody would wanna settle down with? I’m a fucking mess, dude.” The smile faded from his face.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make you any less worthy of love, Rich. I learned that the hard way.” Eddie took Richie’s hand under the water, “I’ve always just accepted the love that I thought I deserved. I took my mother’s manipulation, and when she croaked I married a carbon copy of her, because it was all I knew, it was all that I thought I could have. Then I came back here, and I remembered everything. I remembered the love I felt for all of you, the love you gave me in return. You deserve that too.”

Richie couldn’t think of what to say in response. Luckily he didn’t have to, as Bev came up behind them, placing her hand on Richie’s shoulder softly.

“Hey, uhm, we were all gonna head back to the townhouse. Dry off and everything, you know?” She smiled at the two of them, Richie knew exactly what she was thinking. 

“Jesus, yeah that sounds good,” Eddie let go of Richie’s hand, “Let’s get going, I need to take like, five showers, at least.”

The three of them swam back to the shore, where Mike, Bill, and Ben had already started to gather their discarded items of clothing. Richie grabbed his button-up, leather jacket, and his shoes, trying to ignore his growing awareness of how uncomfortable his wet clothes were. 

By the time the Losers arrived back at the Townhouse, the sun had started to set. The six entered the lobby, unsurprisingly unsupervised, which was probably a good thing considering the state they were all in. It was a miracle they managed to make it through town with a minimal amount of horrified stares. 

Not one of them said a word as they slowly made their way up the creaking stairs. It was a peaceful sort of silence, content. They had won.

Bill broke off first, his room being the first on the right. 

“I better get back to the library,” Mike spoke up, pausing at the top of the stairs.

“You don’t have to Mikey,” Bill grabbed Mike’s arm as he pulled a key from his pocket to unlock the door, “Stay here for the night.” It wasn’t a question. He opened the door as the others continued on, carefully avoiding eye contact. Mike followed him in with a gentle smile.

_ Fucking good for you, Denbrough,  _ Richie thought, only semi-bitterly,  _ Get some, I guess. _

Bev separated next, to the left. She gave Ben a peck to the cheek, before entering her room. Ben silently entered his own room next to hers, offering Richie a kind smile before closing the door. 

Richie turned to Eddie, who was apparently thinking the same thing as Richie, given the look on his face.

“Well, at least we’re not the only ones not getting laid tonight.” Richie broke the silence, winking at Eddie.

“Let’s see how long that lasts,” Eddie mumbled. Richie went wide-eyed, before Eddie quickly explained himself, “I mean, you know those two are gonna hook up, I mean they were literally making out under the water in the Quarry, which was actually seriously disgusting if you think about-“

“Dude,” Richie broke into a fit of laughter, “Calm down, I know what you meant.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie stifled a laugh, “Whatever dude.”

“Well, this is me,” Richie gestured to the door to his right, as he fished his key from the pocket of his jacket, “Sweet dreams, my dear Spaghetti.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, jackass. And I’m pretty sure none of us will get anything near a good night’s sleep for a while.” 

“So pessimistic, Eddie my love,” The words came out faster than his brain could really take a second to think the phrasing through. He knew it was just an old nickname, something he used to say to Eddie when they were kids, when it was easier to cover up how much he really meant it. He knew that Eddie wouldn’t take it as anything more than a joke at his expense, but it still made his heart race when Eddie said nothing back. Richie cleared his throat, “So, uh you go take those million showers of yours, and uh, try to sleep.”

“You too, Rich.” Eddie smiled softly as he turned away, crossing the hall to his own room. Richie had already closed the door swiftly behind him before he had the chance to act any stupider.

He dragged himself toward the shitty queen size bed set up against the wall, in the middle of the stuffy room. He dropped his jacket and button-up on the floor as he sat on the edge of ancient sheets. 

“Shit,” He mumbled to no one in particular, “Fuck.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, pressing the palms of his hands to his face, then dragged them up through his hair. His matted curls were still greasy and frankly disgusting, despite having rinsed off in the Quarry. He looked back at his hands, dirt and grime still caked into the lines of his palms. 

_ Maybe Eddie wasn’t far off on the whole five showers thing, _ He smiled to himself.

His whole body ached, presumably from falling two stories onto literal rocks, but he managed to pull himself off the bed anyways. Before he could make it to the bathroom, there was a rapping at his door. Richie groaned as he turned around, walking back past the bed. He opened the door quickly, to face a lost-looking Eddie.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Rich, I know I just left but I just realized that uh, I don’t really have a usable room. Uhm, Bowers kind of stabbed me earlier, and there’s like blood everywhere and I don’t have a shower curtain anymore, and did I mention how much blood there is? Everywhere?” Eddie laughed nervously, avoiding direct eye contact with Richie.

“Oh, if you need to use my bathroom, uh, feel free,” Richie opened the door wider and stepped to the side, letting Eddie in.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie paused in front of the bathroom door, turning back to Richie, “I won’t take too long I promise, we don’t need you smelling like shit any longer than necessary.”

“Copy that, Spaghetti,” Richie huffed out a laugh as Eddie entered the bathroom, “Don’t have too much fun in there!”

Eddie flipped him off as he shut the door.

He thought about laying down for a few minutes, to get a small bit of rest to ease his soreness, but the thought of literally laying in sewer filth managed to stop him. There was a shady-looking armchair sitting in a dark corner next to the bathroom, but that was also a no-go. Its proximity to the bathroom, despite Richie pointedly  _ not _ thinking about Eddie in there, and the fact that he was pretty sure the thing would turn to dust under any sort of weight, seemed to be good enough excuses. So Richie stood, in only a minor amount of pain, awkward and stiff in the middle of the room. He picked at the grime under his nails, to distract himself, only to quickly realize how disgusting it was.

_ Eddie would hate this, _ He thought, before a sinking feeling of dread washed over him. He blinked away tears he hadn’t even noticed were building up. As soon as he shut his eyes, sunlight filled the room. Except it wasn’t his room anymore, and he was no longer standing. 

Richie sat in the Quarry water silently, letting himself wallow in his surroundings. He heard the others moving around too, rinsing themselves off in the certainly unsanitary water, but anything was better than the sewer shit they were all covered head to toe in. He felt something in his hands, and looked down to realize two things. One, he couldn’t see for shit. Two, he was holding his glasses. He grazed his thumb over the lenses to find one cracked and covered in-

_ Oh shit. _

Though his vision was blurry and unfocused, he knew exactly what it was. Blood.

_ Eddie’s blood. _

“You know what?” Ben spoke softly, “Eddie would have hated this, guys.”

The words punched Richie right in the gut. 

“What,” Bill looked toward Ben, “Cleaning ourselves in dirty water?”

“Yeah,” And Ben smiled. He fucking  _ smiled _ .

“He’d be telling us we’d get  _ streptococcal _ -something _. _ ” Bev was smiling too, in the beautiful, wistful sort of way she always did.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, “But he would’ve made us laugh, though.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

They were all smiling, not necessarily with malicious intent, but still. It made Richie sick to his stomach.

“He’d be looking out for us,” Bill said somberly, “The way he always was.”

It was quiet for a moment before Bill spoke up again.

“Ain’t that right, Richie?” 

That was all it took for him to lose it.

Richie let out a broken sob, as the other Losers swam closer to him. They wrapped him in a tight hug, and he just sat there, nearly choking on his own tears. He wasn’t really paying attention to any of them, drowning in thoughts of-

_ Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. _

His eyes were shut tightly, as he tried to ignore the growing dread of having to open them and accept that everything that was happening was real. When he did open them, as desperately as he had tried not to, he was no longer faced with his friends’ looks of pity. Instead, he stood by himself, now completely dry. His vision was clear, aside from the cracked lens in front of his eye. Still, it was better than nothing.

It didn’t take long for him to realize where he was. Running water in the distance, greenery all around him, the crunch of the gravel under his shoes as he walked closer to his destination. 

The Kissing Bridge.

Of course that’s where he went. Where else would he go, if not for the very place where he once immortalized his first love? His only love? 

He knelt down carefully, pulling a small knife from the pocket of his hoodie. Although, truthfully, it wasn’t actually  _ his _ jacket. It was one of the only things he was able to not-so-subtly take from Eddie’s belongings on his way out of town. It was all he had left of Eddie.

It was his, even though it wasn’t. 

The knife felt heavy in his hand, as it once had at age thirteen. It was like he was a teenager again, except this time there was no rush of adrenaline, no thrill from confessing something so sacred and forbidden anonymously. Instead, hot tears trailed down his cheeks as he etched the letters into the wood, deepening the faded message.

_ R + E _

He sat on his knees, staring at the carving, like it was the world to him. And it was. A thought crossed his mind that wasn’t exactly unwelcome.

_ Maybe I can forget again, _ Richie smiled sadly,  _ Maybe I can forget, and this will still be here. Forever. An ever-fixed mark. _

Richie closed his eyes again. This time, he was determined not to open them. 

_ Maybe I can just sit here, forever,  _ He thought deliriously,  _ Maybe if I sit here long enough, this will all go away. _

And it did.

When Eddie found him, Richie was sitting on the floor against the end of the bed, knees pressed to his chest. His eyes were tightly shut, his head resting against the top of his knees. He was hyperventilating, shaking violently where he sat. 

“Richie? What’s going on?” Eddie knelt down next to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

Richie gasped for air, unable to answer. His eyes shot open as he lifted his head to face Eddie. 

“...Richie?” Eddie stumbled back at the sight.

Richie stared at him in confusion with blank white eyes, not that he was aware of the state of his irises, or lack thereof.

“E-Eddie?” He choked out. He lifted his hands to wipe the growing tears from his eyes. He looked back at Eddie, who looked slightly more relaxed.

“Your eyes… For a second you looked like you were…” Eddie leaned back in and wrapped his arms around Richie, pulling him into a tight embrace, “Richie, I thought you were stuck in the Deadlights again.”

“I think I might have been. I don’t know how, the clown is definitely fucking dead but,” Richie paused and took a deep breath, relaxing into the hug, “You were gone, Eds. Like, really gone. It got you.”

“I’m right here, Rich, and I’m not going anywhere.” Eddie pulled him in tighter, “That motherfucker is gone. We’re safe, Richie, I swear.”

Eddie held him until he felt Richie’s breathing finally slow. It was only then that Richie realized Eddie was still wearing a towel. His hair was damp, pressed against Richie, smelling like unbranded hotel shampoo. Clean. Richie was anything but clean.

“Jesus,” Richie pulled away a little bit, “I still need to shower. Shit, and you just showered, and I got you dirty and-”

“Calm down, Rich, it’s okay,” Eddie pulled him back in, “Don't worry about it, okay?” His breath was warm against Richie’s neck, “Let’s get you showered, buddy.”

Eddie pulled back a bit, not quite letting go of Richie. He helped him to his feet and led him back to the bathroom. Eddie tugged at the hem of Richie’s shirt, trying to help him out of it.

“I, uh, think I got it from here, Eds,” Richie’s cheeks flushed red as Eddie backed up, nearly running into the sink, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course, man. You had me scared there for a moment...” Eddie looked at him with an expression that Richie couldn’t quite understand, “You know, uhm, if you wanted, I could stay here tonight. I- I don’t want to intrude or whatever but after everything, I just think we shouldn’t be alone, any of us.” 

_ I don’t want to be alone. _

_ I need you to stay. _

“Yeah, that makes sense I guess. You can definitely stay here, dude,” Richie crossed his arms against his bare chest, “But, I hope you’re aware that I only have one bed in here, Eds.”

“I don’t care, man. My room is pretty much out of commission, also I’m pretty sure no one actually works here so a different room is also off the table,” Eddie rambled, making his way toward the door. He stopped in front of Richie, gently punching his shoulder, “Don’t be such a pussy, dude. We used to share a bed all the time as kids.”

They did, on the rare occasion that Eddie was allowed to stay the night in the Toziers’ home. Richie was never allowed past dinner at the Kaspbrak house, mostly due to Sonia’s dislike for the boy. After a while, the only way Eddie could ever sleep at Richie’s house was to convince Sonia he was actually going to Bill’s. The memories hit Richie all at once. Every time Eddie would start out in a sleeping bag on the floor, and every time they would still end up sleeping in the same bed. It was always Eddie who initiated it, to Richie’s surprise, always climbing up to Richie’s bed after a while. And every time Richie would lay there flustered and nervous, unable to sleep, afraid he might wake up clinging to Eddie, or worse. They would read comics under the covers, or listen to music, or simply just talk until Eddie eventually fell asleep. It would take Richie a while longer after that before he could rest, slowly falling asleep to the sound of Eddie’s soft snoring. And when warm sunlight spilled through the blinds the following mornings, it was always the same. Them clinging together in some way or another. Richie usually woke up first, wiggling out of Eddie’s arms in a panic. Eddie never seemed as worried as Richie. 

Even now, Eddie simply smiled and walked back into the bedroom, clearly unaware of the internal panic going on in Richie’s head.

_ Why should he? _ The thought crept into his mind as he slowly shut the bathroom door,  _ It’s not like  _ he  _ has anything to worry about. _

Richie quickly discarded the rest of his clothes and turned the shower on as hot as he could get it. The mirror was still a bit fogged up from Eddie’s shower, only getting blurrier as the steam from Richie’s shower built up. He looked at himself in the mirror, wiping it to get a clearer picture.

_ Damn, I look like shit. _

His eyes were red around the rim, a result of his breakdown just moments before. There were dark bags under his eyes, a bruised purple visible even beneath his thick glasses. His hair was absolutely disgusting, matted curls clinging to his large forehead. His once handsome stubble, now just a bit too scraggly. His eyes moved to his torso, noticing the bruises spreading from his back along his sides. His arms were bruised as well, covered in scratches and darkened spots from the fight. He didn’t even want to think about what the rest of his body might look like in that post-clown-murdering light, so he took his glasses and set them gently next to the sink. 

His body burned in the best way possible as he stood under the boiling hot water, watching as the remaining grime swirled down the drain, back to the sewers where it belonged. He scrubbed with shitty off-brand soap until his skin was red and angry. He washed his hair more thoroughly than he thought he ever had in his life. He stood facing the water, letting it wash over him with a harsh spray. He took longer than he normally would in the shower, but given the circumstances, it was well deserved. He made a mental note to make some sort of stupid joke to Eddie about jerking it in the shower once he got back. 

_ Yeah, Eds, I did take a long fucking shower! You know how horny clown killing makes me, almost as much as your mom!  _ Richie shook his head as he dried off,  _ No that’s fucking stupid. Maybe something along the lines of: Yeah I needed to ‘relieve some stress’ after seeing you- Nope, nope, nope! Not even gonna touch that subject with a fifty foot pole.  _

He decided not to bring up the length of his shower.

Instead Richie exited the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, silently. Eddie was sitting on the left side of the bed, tucked under the thin blanket. His face was lit up in the dim room by the light of his phone, which he seemed to be intensely focused on. Richie cleared his throat, causing Eddie to look up, eyes immediately widening. He quickly looked back down at his phone, his face slightly flushed.

“Sorry, I know I’m a sight for sore eyes,” Richie shuffled past him.

“No, no you look- you’re fine,” Eddie stumbled over his words, “Your clothes are on the dresser. I hope you don't mind, but I couldn’t, uhm, I didn't want to go to my old room so I borrowed some.”

“Oh, yeah that’s, uhm, yeah that’s cool,” Richie grabbed his pajamas, which consisted of a pair of boxers and an old graphic tee, neatly folded on top of the dresser. He desperately tried not to focus on the fact that Eddie was wearing  _ his _ clothes, “ _ Trashmouth couture  _ is a great look on you by the way.”

“Hey it’s not my fault that only shirts you own have your own damn face on them. Seriously dude, you might be a little obsessed with yourself, I mean how many  _ Trash-Talk Tour _ t-shirts do you realistically need? Not to mention they’re all fucking huge, like I know your chest is really- I mean- there is no way that any of these fit you, dude.” Eddie huffed, still not looking directly at Richie, who raised his arms in defense.

“Alright, damn, I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions on what I wear to bed,” Richie laughed, walking back toward the bathroom, “I’ll be right back.”

Richie closed the bathroom door behind him, his heart racing.

_ What the fuck was that? _

He got dressed quickly, brushed his teeth, and came back to the room. He approached the bed slowly, Eddie still didn’t look up when Richie pulled the covers up and got under them.

“Something interesting you’d like to share with the class?” Richie muttered after a few minutes of scrolling through his own phone.

“No,” Eddie said quickly, “Just emailing my lawyer.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Still going through with the divorce then?” Richie immediately regrets asking it as soon as he saw Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, obviously, dickwad, I-” Eddie cut himself off, and took a deep breath, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just- I still need to actually talk to Myra, and explain everything, and I know she won’t believe me. And I’m just so  _ pissed. _ Not at you, or Myra, or myself even, but that fucking clown, for making forget everything. Making me uproot my life at age forty, making realize that I could have been so fucking happy, or at least somewhat happy if I could have remembered. I feel like I’ve wasted my life trying to be someone I’m not, trying to convince myself that if I do everything I’m supposed to do, then I can find that happiness. All I’ve done is pretend, my entire life, Richie, and I’m tired. I’m so, very tired. I have a misguided but loving wife, a nice fucking job, an expensive car, but none of it has ever really mattered, because it’s all bullshit. It’s all just... placebos.”

Richie laid there on his side, facing Eddie, who faced him as well. He could see the tears running down Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

“E-Eds, I didn’t know you felt like that,” Richie could feel the tears building up in his own eyes, “I mean, I- I know how you feel. Maybe not the exact same situation, but I know what it’s like to be so… trapped, acting like someone you’re not. I know, I know, it’s unlike me to be so serious, but I am, Eddie. I may not be married, or have your perfect life, but I’ve also been pretending. My entire life, even before I forgot. I do Voices, and tell jokes, and hope to God that if I make people laugh hard enough, they won’t figure me out. I go up on stage and play this middle-age fuckboy, some famous asshole who’s only interests are getting pussy and partying like a college freshman. And at the end of the day I go back to a dark, empty apartment and drink until the loneliness goes away. But it doesn’t go away, so I wake up alone and hungover, live to lie another day, ya know? I’ve been lying for so long, Eds. And it hurts. And I never understood why I lied. It always seemed so stupid, unnecessary, but I kept doing it anyways. I hid myself away, pushing forward this persona and hoping that no one would come close enough to realize who I really am.”

His tears were falling freely, unashamed. He breathed in sharply, nearly choking on a sob. Eddie reached forward with one hand and cupped Richie’s cheek.

“God, I wasn't expecting to experience this much emotional bullshit in one night, sorry Eds,” Richie reached up to wipe his own tears, embarrassed of how vulnerable he had made himself.

“We should sleep,” Eddie suggested, moving his hand up to reach Richie’s glasses, “It’s been a long fucking day.”

“Wait, Eds, your hand,” Richie reached up and grabbed Eddie by the wrist. He ran his fingers over Eddie’s palm, “Your scar is gone.”

“Yours is too,” Eddie replied quietly as Richie let go, letting Eddie examine his hand as well, “I think it’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, I think it’s over,” Richie chuckled softly, “Fuck, it’s really over. And you’re still here.”

“I’m still here,” Eddie removed Richie’s glasses, folding them gently and placing them in Richie’s hands, “And I’m really fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” Richie laughed as Eddie slowly closed his eyes.

It wasn’t until after Eddie had fallen asleep, his heartbeat and steady breathing the only sounds in the room, that Richie was able to finally rest as well. With heavy eyelids, he watched as the love of his life drifted off into a peaceful sleep, alive and safe.


End file.
